periwinkle
by juicy-calamari
Summary: It's the anniversary of the day the "witch's curse" brought back seven puritans from the dead, and while everyone seems to be dwelling on the zombies, Norman focuses on the little girl he met that day... with a single flower symbolizing their entire relationship. N/A one-shot


_November 21st, 2013_

Norman Babcock crammed binders and pieces of grease-stained notebook paper into his backpack, careful not to crease the delicacy tucked into a side pocket. He strode down the school's hallway, briefly waving or occasionally saying, "hello" to the onlookers still encircling their lockers. His peers mirrored his hospitality with smiles and friendly gestures.

This wasn't that unusual... Norman, who had saved numerous lives (and maybe even the whole town), shot up in popularity in the weeks subsequent to breaking the "witch's curse" and finally laying the dead at rest.

A whole year had elapsed since that day; and yet, the mishap was still seemingly fresh in everyone's minds.

Neil, Norman's overweight but optimistic friend, joined alongside him as they walked out of the main doors together.

"Norman, you won't _believe_ this," he started, pulling a folded slip of paper out of his pocket. Smoothing over the crumpled flyer, he waved it in front of Norman's eyes.

"Look!" he exclaimed. Seizing the manila-colored paper, Norman scanned it from top to bottom.

**WHO NEEDS _WITCHES_? ZOMBIES ARE ALL THE RAGE!**

**_As a result of our town's previous 'incident' concerning the notorious Wicked Witch of Massachusetts, our town's history has been altered dramatically. And what is different, you may ask? Well, our town is beginning a brand new tradition! The_ Blithe Hollows Annual Zombie Festival_ provides fun for the whole family! In fact... one may be careful not to loose their head._**

Norman cringed at the pitiful attempt of a joke, but was still impelled to read further.

**_Due to zombies being a prominent tourist attraction, our town's party-planners scheduled the Zombie Festival for Saturday, November 22nd, to commemorate the anniversary of when the "witch's curse" made its way into reality! Guaranteed to satisfy all of your living-dead needs._**

ADMISSION: $9

CONCESSION STAND: $2-$20

Neil excitedly snatched the flyer back, folding it up once more.

"Mitch and his boyfriend offered to give us a ride there. My mom just said that if you get your parents' permission, then we could even pay for your food and stuff!" Neil said. "Oh, did Mitch finish saving up for the new van?"

"Yup," he replied. "It's a Ford E-150. Looks even better than the one that got demolished!" Norman chuckled at his friends' enthusiasm.

"My mom is really accepting, and maybe even my dad... he's been getting more and more used to my paranormal stuff lately," he assured, making his way across the vacant street.

"Sounds cool! Sooooo," Neil began, running a pudgy hand through his hair. "Wanna head to my house and start making costumes? Ours will be the _best_ at the festival," he offered, nudging Norman's arm.

Norman gave Neil a smile, but it quickly evaporated as he glanced down at the pavement.

"I can't today, Neil. I have to do something... something really important to me," he replied. Before Neil could interject, he concluded, "_Alone_."

Neil took a step back, but still maintained an overjoyed expression. "I understand," he said.

Before turning the corner leading up to his house, Neil added, "See you tomorrow, Buddy!"

* * *

Norman had just dropped by home, sprinting up stairs to retrieve his booklet, when he was confronted by Courtney.

"Going somewhere?" she asked, fiddling with strands of her blonde hair.

"Actually, I am." "Not where I _think_ you're going, right?" Norman maneuvered his way past her and treaded upstairs.

"You ARE, aren't you?" Courtney sneered, trailing behind him.

"Look, Norman... for all you know, that girl could come back as soon as you're at her grave and get all pissed off again," she warned. The two entered his bedroom, every square-inch plastered with horror movie posters of all ages.

"What makes you so sure that she isn't going to have a panic attack again?" "Because," Norman answered, shoveling through his drawers.

"I trust her."

His search wasn't ultimately in vain; he had found the booklet. Attempting to inch past his sister once more, she grabbed the back of his hood and jerked him back.

"Not so fast, Norman. You've met this girl once. She's tried to impale you, electrocute you, and she's even raised the freaking _dead_. Are you sure you're safe going back?" Courtney asked, staring daggers into his eyes.

"Yes. Haven't you been listening? I just know." He wiggled out of her grasp and bolted downstairs, retreating to his bike.

"I'm only looking out for you, you know!" she called out after him. "It's _your_ funeral!"

* * *

Beyond the rusty metal fence was an array of oak trees, varying in size.

An autumn tone splashed in contrast to the woods; leaves withered, showing off their faint shades of yellows and oranges galore. Propping up his bicycle against a tree, he kneeled down to pull the concealed present out of his backpack.

Gradually, his fingers unfurled out of a fist position, revealing the crumpled remains of a periwinkle flower, barely joined to the stem. Its cobalt leaves were wilted, but still a marvel to gaze at.

Silently entering the vast forest, Norman used his memory to guide him to Agatha Prenderghast's unmarked grave.

Noise was absent, other than the crunching of dead leaves underneath the boy's red Keds. Norman approached what he believed was the witch's burial sight with, surprisingly, ease. Booklet and flower in each of his hands' grasps, he kneeled down, his shadow overcasting the tree trunk of Aggie's demise. Mulch and dirt enveloped his jean-covered knees.

Staring at the base of the tree, Norman began to say, "I know you're no longer here. I'm glad your with your mom, Aggie, but if you can still hear me, somehow..." He held up the booklet.

"I did this for a project in my History class... we needed to do these little storybooks on any historical aspect of Massachusetts," he carefully explained, glancing down at the thin booklet. "I did mine on the lifestyle of the puritans. Guess you were kind of an inspiration," he admitted, slightly grinning.

"And this," Norman started, exchanging the book for the flower. "is a periwinkle. My mom helped me pick it out of her garden. Just for you, Aggie. She enlightened me on the meaning behind periwinkles... people used to (and still do, apparently) give these flowers to represent the birth of a friendship. And... the color blue, speaking in terms of flowers, generally means 'at peace'. Kind of convenient, huh?" he asked.

"It's usually a riveting kind of flower, but this one got squished under my schoolbooks. Sorry about that," he apologized, placing the periwinkle near a tree root.

"I just wanted to show you that _someone_ still remembers you for what you truly were; a little girl with a gift and an unjustly death," Norman explained, lifting himself off of the ground.

With that, Norman walked away.

Although Agatha never responded, Norman felt a strange sensation blanket over his body. A sense of peace, somewhat.

Norman turned around, and faintly replied with a whisper.

_"See you next year, Aggie."_

**AN: ParaNorman was SUCH a stunning film, and it blew my expectations completely out of the water. I decided to write a little story revolving on the best part of the film, Agatha Prenderghast. This is also the first fanfiction I have written in 3 years, so I'm sorry if it's choppy!**


End file.
